I wake once more just like before,      on gurney bed I lay. And count the days inside my head,      today like yesterday. A dozen here, a dozen there,      the hours start to drone. He said he take me back he did,      he said he'd take me home. I stare at sterile ceiling white,      no sky invades my vision, And watch the seconds ticking by,...

A year has passed since last I saw,      the girl with onyx hair. The deadly twirling Hummingbird,      who killed without a care. Yet one thought flowing on and on,      eroding riverbed. How she could kill the living,      but could not kill the dead. At first I thought her weak in strength,      though nimble, quick and spry. I never thought I'd see that girl      a mighty Samurai....

My vision starts to fade again,      the room I see replaced. Yolanda and the bludgeoned corpse,      like memory effaced. Just as before the word repeated,      burrows ever deep. I wish once more that it will end,      to feel the sting of sleep. Aware that I'm still moving,      though with eyesight undermined. I give myself unto the dreams,      to seek, to search, to find....

The shafts of light from sun above,      that run the gauntlet through. Illuminate the molten flames,      a lava flow in view. As breeze disturbs and bullets pelt,      the motion, slow to ebb, Particles are tossed in air,      then caught in spider's web. I sense the morning early,      the dew wet underfoot. But as I run no thought is lost,      on where my feet to put....

Her father was an angry man,      at world his fists did shake. So once in charge of firm,      devised a plan to undertake. He felt the human race at end,      a dead monstrosity. A sprawling cancer killing Earth,      that grew chaotically. His plan faked evolution,      on a truly epic scale. And into human's status quo,      drove coffin's final nail. Enhancing this, upgrading that,...

How can it be? I ask myself,      that they avoid decay. Their skin is still intact it seems,      It does not rot away. Perhaps the atmosphere is strange,      the air out here thin? I'm grasping at the straws of reason,      struggling within. The ghostly faces stare at me,      I'm struck by detail small. How similar the dead can look,      no matter short or tall....

The next few weeks pass quickly,      as we build a new routine. I search and scour for firewood,      while she prepares cuisine. At night I sleep out under stars,      we take turns keeping sentry. A pair well matched, as if our skills,      designed so complementary. The dead don't seem to like it here,      we've hardly seen a dozen. Mayhap the graveyard scares them off,...

"Run!" she screams, a primal cry,      that echoes off the dead. Her mouth nigh dislocated,      in the wake of aforesaid. I scramble to my feet,      the tread from shoes not quite enough. Slipping on uneven floor,      and scuffing surface rough. I run as fast as limbs allow,      slow and inefficient. Another skill I curse myself,      for being unproficient. The blood pumps faster now, my speed,...

That whirling happens fast again,      I feel my grip is lost. My mind entranced in foggy shroud,      and to it deep accost. Colours run like molten wax,      they mingle, mix; a mess. The twirl and twist in state confused,      then leave me in distress. The cobble street appears again,      a dream I can't escape. Or mayhap it's reality,      that o'er my world doth drape....

"Hold this now!" she barks commands,      in manner quite abrupt. Though current situation,      gives her reason to erupt. She hands me box, the silver cube,      that inside life now flows. Transfusing red elixir,      to the patient I suppose. But still the woman stutters,      her life in waves escapes. Her breathing so erratic,      over body death so drapes. Yolanda yelps, "I'm losing her!"      She thumps the cage in rhyme....